


Freefalling I and II

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-15
Updated: 2000-03-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:17:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Another first time story.





	Freefalling I and II

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Freefalling by Poly

Title: Freefalling  
Author/pseudonym: Poly  
Fandom: X-Files  
Paring: Mulder/Skinner  
Rating: NC17  
Archive: Yes at Down in the Basement and Complete Kingdom of Slash. Anyone else please ask.  
E-mail address for feedback:   If you enjoyed the story, why don't you drop me a line.  
Disclaimers: Not mine.  
Notes: A heartfelt thank you to Idgi for her encouragement and her invaluable comments.

Summary: Another first time story.

* * *

****  
  


"There will be another one tonight".

Mulder only stated the obvious, but everyone in the conference room felt the chilling effect of his words. Everyone knew the killer's MO, his schedule, but having Mulder utter these words gave a finality to the act. An act not yet taken place.

"Maybe it won't happen tonight. Maybe the weather will deter him". Rain like nothing the capital had ever seen was pouring down for a day or so and a good part of the city had flooded.

Hope lives eternal and all eyes turned to Mulder. The team had learned the hard way not to ignore Mulder's opinion and now they treated his words with reverence. Skinner contemplated once more the absurdity of human nature.

Mulder shook his head, reluctant to openly dishearten his fellow agents. A serial killer on the loose and they weren't much closer to capturing him than they were after the first murder. They didn't need the additional disappointment.

"Agents". Skinner took over. "The subject is moot. We should be prepared for all eventualities". Nods around the table and everyone stood to leave, focused once more to the tasks ahead.

As usual, Mulder stood and left a little faster than anybody else. Skinner wanted to stop him, wanted to talk to him, but damn if he knew what to say. A moment's hesitation and Mulder had fled the room.

***

Skinner woke up, startled and confused, the only certainty the thudding of his heart against his ribs. The dream was fading fast, yet it took him a moment to realise that the raindrops outside the window weren't blood and Mulder's broken body wasn't real.

The lingering trembling of fear, though, was harder to shake. He shivered, got up and went to the bathroom. The cold water he splashed on his face brought back some measure of reality, a reality, however, too surreal for his taste. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Dead bodies scattered across the city, an ominous thunderstorm and Mulder a frequent presence in his dreams, and not always in the horrific manner of this latest one. This was a reality he could do without. He sighed and went back to his bedroom.

He took a look at the clock on the bedside table. Too early to get up, too late to go back to sleep. The ringing of the phone solved his dilemma. He knew what the news was, not that it made it any easier.

"Sir, we found another body".

"I 'll be right there".

A brief description of the crime scene and he set the phone down without further discussion.

He moved to the bathroom once more, looked at his face in the mirror and the words came to his mouth unbidden and absurd : "Damn you, Mulder, damn you all to hell".

***

20 hours later

It was ridiculous, he knew. Sitting in the car, in front of Mulder's building and contemplating knocking on his door at 11:30 in the evening. Except that he hadn't seen him all day and the foul taste of the dream had yet to leave his mouth. The pictures of the new crime scene had given him some respite, a new horrible image to replace the one in his head, but the relief was short-lived and the shame afterwards choked him almost as much as the fear the night before. And it was such a simple thing really. A few words and he would be on his way. He made up his mind. He could find a good excuse on his way to Mulder's apartment.

He crossed the street, took the stairs two at a time. He didn't take the elevator, too much time to think, to much time to change his mind. Now, standing at the door, he wondered why it was taking Mulder so damned long. Then, the door opened and whatever he expected, it wasn't this. Freshly awakened, in a ratty t-shirt and jeans, Mulder seemed unguarded, not awake enough to be his usual elusive self. Skinner tried to think, he was sure that the light was on in Mulder's apartment, but the embarrassment - and the effort to hide it - were taking most of his energy.

"Agent Mulder"

"Please, sir, come in".

He stepped inside and Mulder closed the door behind him. The light in the apartment was dim and it took him a minute to adjust.

"Sorry I woke you".

"That's quite alright, sir. I was trying to review the case, correct my profile".

"There is nothing wrong with your profile, Mulder".

"We haven't got the guy yet, have we?"

He had already navigated himself to an armchair across from the couch, sat down. Mulder was still standing, an unreadable expression on his face. 'So much for unguarded' Skinner thought, but he was almost relieved. This was a Mulder he knew, a Mulder he could deal with.

"Do you want a beer, sir?"

"I 'd rather not. I have to drive."

Mulder raised his eyebrows, more in genuine confusion than in challenge.

"I had a couple already and I don't hold my liquor well when I 'm tired". Easy admission and Skinner thought idly that it shouldn't feel so good.

Mulder smiled softly. "Not a very macho think to say, is it, sir ?" If it was meant to be a tease, it didn't come out right. Mulder's voice was calm and matter-of-fact, almost tender.

Surprised, Skinner raised his head, regarded Mulder, now sitting across from him on the couch. The coffee table between them was littered with photographs and reports from the case file, a sobering reminder.

"Mulder, about the case, don't beat yourself up over it". It sounded lame, even to his own ears, and he wanted to take it back the moment he said it.

"Is there any other way ?" Light tone of voice and a faint trace of weariness, so much part of Mulder that it was hardly noticeable anymore. Skinner knew better.

He opened his mouth to say he was sorry, choked back the words almost immediately. What the hell was he doing ? He started to rise, making his apologies to leave, and then remembered that he hadn't given an explanation for being here in the first place. Mulder was looking at him with a damn weird expression on his face, like he knew something that he himself didn't and, unaccountably, his heart started to thud painfully against his ribs. It only fueled his urgency to move.

"Please, don't go".

Mulder was blocking his way, but more than his presence, his words stopped Skinner dead in his tracks.

He looked into Mulder's eyes and the fear came back with a vengeance. Not the red fear of blood, but a yellow stained fear, full of regret and opportunities lost. Suddenly, he was drowning and falling, right in the middle of Mulder's living room and he stupidly thought that he wanted to wake now, this weird dream had lasted long enough.

Nonetheless, his hand moved of its own accord and touched Mulder's lips. Just with his fingertips, but this featherlight touch steadied the world around him. He felt soft lips tremble, the brief exhale of breath burning his fingers. Mulder took a step closer, bent his head slightly and kissed him so softly that Skinner wasn't sure if it was for real. Mulder stepped back, took his glasses and put them at the nearby table. Skinner felt the finality of the act in his very bones.

A shiver ran through his body, he didn't know if he was shivering himself or if it was Mulder's trembling vibrating against him. Then, Mulder moved his lips and nuzzled the crook of his neck and he could feel the warmth travelling up and down his spine, pooling in his loins.

He snaked his hands under Mulder's t-shirt, Mulder's body still sleepwarm and wonderfully complacent. He ran his palm along slightly damp skin, felt Mulder's lips utter his name. Suddenly, the need to touch everywhere became a matter of great urgency. Clothes were getting in his way and he frowned, willing his hands to work faster, willing the clothes out of the way. Mulder chuckled and tried to reach for Skinner's shirt, but he was no match for the other man's urgency. Mulder's t-shirt out of the way, they both slipped to the floor, trying not to hurt themselves, either from falling or laughing.

Skinner travelled down Mulder's body, reached the waistband of his jeans. He wanted to savour the moment, take it slowly, but the heat between Mulder's legs was so too enticing to ignore. He unzipped the jeans and found the cock with his hand. Mulder groaned, a low, almost painful sound. He stopped to look at Mulder's face, completely and utterly abandoned in sensual pleasure. His mouth slack, his eyes at half mast, his hands useless at his sides.

He took the cock in his mouth, relishing the sweet taste and Mulder's unintelligible mutterings - "shit, shit, shit" -and sudden jerking. He never thought it would feel so sweet or so right and he was surprised he could think at all. Surely, there wasn't enough blood in his brain for brain function, was there ? Well, he was sucking Fox Mulder, what better proof than that ?

The thought struck him as hilarious and he half-chuckled, half-snorted, sending hot air and little shivers along Mulder's cock. Mulder looked down surprised, his eyes definitely unfocused and suddenly unsure.

Turning the tables on Mulder was such a rare occasion that Skinner revelled in the guilty pleasure. But it didn't last, his need to reassure overpowering the brief moment of mischief. He pulled himself up, seeking Mulder's mouth, lingering in the kiss, conveying tenderness and lust and a deep unexpected longing. Mulder's flushed smile was all the encouragement he needed and he tried to sink down again, finish what he had started. But Mulder stopped him, a gentle hand at the back of his hand.

"I need to touch you".

Breathless and needful and Skinner felt a shiver along his spine and his cock painful between his legs. Before he could regain his equilibrium, he found himself flipped on his back, Mulder intent on unbuttoning his trousers. God, it felt so good, just Mulder's fingers close to his cock, that he didn't know if he could take much more. And then Mulder was touching him, stroking him, naked flesh touching naked flesh. His hips jerked forcefully and the contact was lost, much to Mulder's amusement and his deep regret. Then Mulder moved up, started kissing him, consuming him, eating him alive. Mulder's cock found his, both impossibly hard and the feeling of the other man's cock against his own was almost blinding. And this time it was truly too much, sure the fire was leaving marks on his body and, oh god, if he could only die now, maybe he was truly dying.

***

He was sure that he was in a perfectly undignified position, half-sprawled, half-sitting, half-naked, half-dressed. He couldn't summon the energy to care, besides Mulder was lying on top of him, seemingly oblivious to the situation, still nuzzling his throat. And it felt so good that Skinner was ready to start all over again when he heard Mulder mumble something.

"What ?" Skinner pulled away to see an almost smug grin in Mulder's face.

"I guess you can have that beer now". There was a connection somewhere that he knew he should be able to make, but his mind was useless and he stared back blankly.

Mulder started to pull away, but it wasn't the physical action that alarmed Skinner. Mulder's unreadable expression was back and Skinner wasn't prepared for the painful tightening in his gut. He forcefully stopped Mulder's movement, taking his face in his hands.

"Stop it. Whatever you do just stop it". Mulder stayed suspended for a minute, then a smile, very different from anything Skinner had ever seen coming from him, spread in his face. Skinner felt a physical pleasure bubble inside him, rendered stunned and speechless once more.

Mulder stood upright, started pulling Skinner along. Half-discarded trousers were getting in the way and Skinner wondered whether he should pull them up or take them off completely. Seeing the thoughtful expression in his face, Mulder laughed, shed his own clothing and started towards the bedroom.

"Come on".

"Where are we going ?" Skinner adopted a mock weary tone.

"Bedroom. You know, where people sleep".

The mock weariness gave place to mock relief. "Good. For a moment, I feared for my virtue".

Mulder's laugh came once more unobstructed, infectious, addictive. Skinner found himself following Mulder down the hall, laughing along with him and amazed all the same. Tried to remember what he came here for in the first place. Somehow he didn't care.

THE END

***

Feedback greatly appreciated at:   


 

* * *

 

Title: Freefalling 2: Home  
Author/pseudonym: Poly  
Fandom: X-Files  
Paring: Mulder/Skinner  
Rating: PG  
Archive: Yes at Down in the Basement and Complete Kingdom of Slash. Anyone else please ask.  
E-mail address for feedback:   If you enjoyed the story, why don't you drop me a line.  
Disclaimers: Not mine.  
Series: The second in a series.  
Notes: A big thank you to Idgi for her excellent and thorough beta job, but above all her friendship.

Summary: A first time doesn't always lead to a second time. But it might lead home.

* * *

***

He couldn't take his eyes away. He wanted to, but couldn't. Even when he wasn't looking, he could see all of Mulder's movements in his mind's eye. The way he was smiling. The way he was running his hand through his hair. The way he was leaning to whisper in her ear. He could see his lips moving and he could almost feel the soft breath on his own cheek. God, Walter, you are losing it.

Four days. He hadn't seen Mulder in four days - not alone anyway. Not since he had woken up in Mulder's bed to find a note: "I have to check a lead. Glad you stayed. M." He had felt uneasy, alone in Mulder's apartment, a forced intimacy he hadn't been ready to deal with. He had dressed and left as fast as he could. They had a monster to catch, after all.

And the lead had panned out. In four short days, the case was closed and the perpetrator arrested. A lot of pats on the back and "good job" all around. It was a good job. So, how come he felt so rotten?

He put his empty glass on the counter and ordered another one.

"We have reasons to celebrate, don't we, sir?"

He turned abruptly, unable to contain his surprise, unable to contain the curt response.

"What reasons?"

Agent Harris was taken aback.

"The closure of the case, sir. That pervert being arrested."

"Of course. Absolutely. I 'm sorry, I was thinking about something else for a moment." Agent Harris relaxed. Young, fresh-faced, inexperienced, this was his first big case with the Bureau. He was riding a high like no other.

"We have time to think about other things now. I couldn't think much beyond this case for weeks".

Skinner thought guiltily about the last four days. The serial killer was not the first thing in his mind. And now, he probably should try and think something else altogether.

"Yes, other things. Can I buy you a drink, Agent Harris?"

"Thank you, sir, but I am on my way home. It was an honor working with you, sir".

He shook the agent's hand, held it a moment longer to get his attention.

"Good job, Agent Harris, I am sure we 'll work together in the future".

***

He looked around the room. The evening was at full swing and people seemed to be having fun. Maybe a little too desperately. At times like this he was reminded of Vietnam and his days of leave. There was an uncomfortable resemblance - the booze, the noise, the relief, the fear, even the sex. He looked for Mulder, but he was nowhere to be found. He tried not to notice that Detective Helen Grant was gone as well, he didn't want to think about it.

Suddenly, it was too much. His dreams and the note carefully folded in his wallet and Mulder's taste in his mouth and the four days of wanting something that wasn't his. His heart started beating faster and he wanted to leave, but he couldn't. These were good people and they had done a good job. They deserved more than that. He tried to calm himself, focus on the things ahead. He would leave, but first he would take his time to say goodbye and congratulate everyone.

He stepped out into the cold evening air and it seemed to do him good. Washed some of the self-pity away and cleared his head. What was he thinking?

He walked for several blocks. He started with a brisk walk that soon turned into a run. He knew he was a strange sight, a formally dressed man running for no apparent reason, his coat billowing behind him. He didn't care. His feet wouldn't stay still and if his feet were still, his mind wasn't. He ran until he was forced to stop. He leaned, hands on his knees, and took several deep breaths. At least there was a perfectly acceptable reason for his fast heartbeat this time.

After a while, he hailed a taxi and the ride was mercifully short. He tried to keep his mind blank and he found out it wasn't as hard as he thought. Physical and emotional exhaustion were on his side and he felt mildly pleased with himself.

When he got out of the cab, he felt downright triumphant. Like he was trying to escape something and he 'd finally made it. He slumped against the back wall of the elevator and closed his eyes.

But the moment he stepped out, he knew that he 'd been outrun. Some victories are short-lived, but he had never felt so good about losing and he wasn't about to complain. He approached the seated man at his doorstep like the sight was the most natural thing in the world. And in a strange way, it was.

"Mulder, what are you doing here?"

Mulder struggled to get up, his movements very slow and careful.

"Well, I couldn't get in."

"Too drunk to pick the lock, eh?"

"Something like that."

He gave Mulder a hand and knew immediately that it was a mistake. How was he supposed to keep his wits while he touched Mulder? His skin remembered things that he himself was trying to forget.

He helped Mulder inside. Mulder standing up was a much more graceful sight than trying to get up. The task of putting one foot in front of the other wasn't as taxing.

Suddenly a thought occurred to him. Mulder had more sense than that, hadn't he?

"You didn't drive here, did you?"

"No, Detective Grant gave me a lift".

So much for sense.

"Detective Grant gave you a lift to *my* apartment?"

"Relax, Walter. She dropped me a couple of blocks away. Besides, she doesn't know where you live. Does she?"

He was playing with him. The son of the bitch was playing with him.

"Why are you here, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder's eyes never wavered.

"I didn't want to go to my apartment tonight".

Mulder's openness shamed him and made him feel weak in the knees. Two short steps and Mulder was in front of him. A strong sense of déjà vu made his cock heavy with blood.

"It's all right, Walt, it's all right."

How did he do that? How did he know? He felt raw, exposed. In an instant, Mulder's hands were around him, Mulder's mouth on his. He was covered alright. Laughter bubbled inside.

Mulder broke the kiss and took a backstep, losing his balance in the process. Skinner grabbed him by the forearms, supported him with his body. Mulder chuckled for no apparent reason, l eaned his head on Skinner's shoulder.

"Mulder, you are drunk".

"Well documented fact, sir."

He made a token effort to scowl, he knew this was expected of him, but he couldn't quite pull it off. Mulder's warm body was soothing worries he had been ignoring for too long.

Funnily enough, it was Mulder who scowled.

"And how come you are sober?"

"Believe me, Mulder, I 'm not".

And he wasn't talking about alcohol either.

***

Mulder needed coffee. He himself needed a moment's distance.

He kept busy around the kitchen, looking for something to eat while the coffee brewed. There were sensible things to do. And then, there was what he and Mulder were going to do. He smiled to himself. He felt better than he had felt in days.

He carried the mugs back to the living room, but he stopped a little inside the door. Mulder had stretched out on the couch and he was sound asleep.

He sat carefully on the coffee table, put the coffee mugs aside. Mulder was on his side, face totally relaxed, his mouth slack and inviting. But more than anything else it was the total abandon and trust that touched Skinner. Mulder didn't want to go to his apartment, but he had found his way home. The thought pleased Skinner more than he thought possible. He reached out and touched Mulder's cheek with the back of his hand, traced his lips with the back of his fingers. This touch felt more intimate than anything they had done the other night and Skinner felt his breath catching in his throat.

Who was he trying to fool? He never stood a chance.

***

Feedback greatly appreciated at: 

 


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